Thursday, September 07, 2006

Trumpet players do it with three fingers.




So I found out today that Maynard Ferguson recently died. Yeah. That's exactly what I said, "Who?"



I'm not a musician. I don't keep up with the goings on in the world of professional music. But apparently he was pretty good. It is always sad when someone talented dies. It's always sad when anyone dies. I didn't even notice IF it was indeed in the local paper.

However, KTG noticed. And her brother, being a trumpet player, and all up on the ins and outs, comings and goings in the music world noticed as well.

So, KTG has a plan. To recognize the contributions of a lost musical talent. To acknowledge her brother's passion for the trumpet. And mostly to attempt to make him laugh or drive him nuts. I really don't know which.

this is an audio post - click to play

OOPS! WRONG TYPE OF TRUMPETING!


She asked a bunch of us, including myself and my mom and ~K~ to write a joke about trumpet players/musicians on post cards and mail them to her brother. One at a time - to make it last all month long (until his birthday on October 1st). (The postal service version of chinese water torture, I suppose.)

She even has a theme for this month long celebration:

"Stop! You're killing Me!"
a comedic postal series


So we spent some time looking up appropriate jokes.

Here's one that was too long for a post card:
    There was a boy in kindergarten who played the trumpet. One day, he came home and said, "Mommy, today we practiced counting! I got all the way up to 10, but most of the kids messed up around 6 or 7!!!" and his mom said, "Good, that's because you're a trumpet player."

    The next day he came home and said, "Mommy, today we practiced the alphabet! I got all the way to the end, but most of the kids got messed up around "s" or "t"!" and his mom said, "Good, that's because you're a trumpet player."

    The next day, he came home and said "Mommy, guess what, they measured us today and I'm the tallest person in the whole class!!! Is that because I'm a trumpet player, too?" and his mom said, "No, dear, that's because you're 25 years old."


Now, not that I have that many readers here, regular or ir. But, it would be really cool if he got trumpet jokes on postcards from some other places. It doesn't even have to be an official "Post card" post card. Cut out a postcard size block of paper and stick a 24ยข stamp or equivalent on it.

And No, he's not sick and dying and not going for a world record. He has no earthly idea of what he's in for during the next month of mail service. It's all a surprise. But for less than a quarter and a few minutes of your time, you too can torment someone's older brother. That's worth a few cents, isn't it? I mean, personally, I'd pay big bucks to have people aggravate mine.

So here's the address of KTG's Bubba :

P-Man
136 Mango Street
Fort Meyers Beach, FL 33931


And if possible, write the theme somewhere on it:
"Stop (your name here), You're Killing Me!"


Thanks ever so.

2 Comments:

  • At 9:23 PM, Anonymous KTG said…

    Ethel, I love ya, more that the big full moon tonight!

    Kisses,
    Lucy

     
  • At 12:17 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    As on today at 5pm, Bubba has not mentioned ANY postcards...WELL! we can play possum too! KTG

     

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